Showdown With the Past
by Carla K
Summary: Johnny Lancer is challenged by a man from his past.


Showdown with the Past

Showdown with the Past

A Lancer story by Carla Keehn. This story is written for entertainment purposes only, not profit, and is not meant to infringe on any existing copyrights.

* * * *

It was a hot August day and the mood in the town was charged with excitement as the townspeople assembled to watch the drama that was slowly unfolding on Main Street.

Johnny Lancer flexed his trigger hand cautiously as his blue eyes scanned the gathering crowd. Bits and pieces of disjoined conversations drifted towards him . . .

". . . I done told you that boy would bring nothing but trouble to Murdoch Lancer . . ."

". . .the man's a killer - - a man like that ain't gonna change, not with a past like that . . ."

The past . . . Johnny Lancer felt his stomach knot. Once known as Johnny Madrid, he'd spent his early years honing his reputation as a gunfighter. 

But one day fate intervened and changed that, when a chance meeting in the town of Morro Coyo brought him into contact with his brother Scott and the rest of the Lancer family.

It was there that he met Murdoch Lancer, the father he'd never known. Johnny had found Murdoch to be a proud and stubborn man as both father and son struggled to make peace with their pasts and form a bond with each other. 

When Lancer had agreed to stay on with Murdoch, he'd renounced his old way of living. His father had offered him an opportunity to overcome the shadows of his troubled past and live a normal life.

Lancer eyed the man across from him warily. His sharply honed instincts had enabled him to instantly size up the man in front of him, a man who had sought Johnny out in the saloon and issued a challenge to him. The dark haired Lancer had run into his type more times than he could count – a man who was at a crossroads in his life, a life marred by tragedy that was nearing its end. 

"I – I'm gonna kill you, Lancer." A simple statement yet it was obvious that the man was having trouble controlling the emotions he was feeling. 

"That won't change anything," Johnny replied in a low tone. 

"I'll be the judge of how to settle accounts with you - -" The man's painfilled voice broke. "My Martha nearly died givin' birth to our boy, Lancer. We done buried three of his brothers before that. And you killed him - - And Martha too. My poor wife, the doctor said there wasn't no reason for her to just up and die like that - but I know better. She died of a broken heart. Because of YOU – I lost both of them – because of YOU - -"

"Your son was drunk and looking for fight," Lancer replied tersely. "He drew on me first and I fired in self defense. That's all there was to it."

"You're a liar – You shot him down in cold blood, like he was some kind of animal!" The anguished father was visibly trembling. "And that's exactly what I'm gonna do to you - -"

Johnny took a ragged breath. No matter how hard he tried to put the past behind him, the life he'd led before continued to haunt him and his family. 

__

Another showdown with my past . . . Lancer thought grimly. Would there ever come a day when he wouldn't have to worry about being confronted by someone bent on bringing Johnny Madrid to justice?

The stifling summer heat was making it hard for Johnny to breathe. Rivulets of perspiration ran down his face. The tiny beads of sweat gathered at his brow, forcing him to squint as the droplets pricked at his weary eyes.

"I'll give you the same chance that I gave your son," Johnny said quietly. "You started this fight – you draw first."

The man raised a shaky hand and leveled the gun at Lancer. A hush came over the spectators as they reacted to the man's actions. Like lions ready for the kill, the crowd was hungry for what was to come next. Johnny saw the man's finger slowly pull back on the trigger.

The gun barked suddenly. Then a woman screamed and Lancer felt a shooting pain bore into his side. Johnny saw the shock and surprise on the man's face – The man had expected, no wanted, to die – it was the only way to end a lifetime of pain. At that moment, the blackness mercifully began descending around him, blotting out the pain and everything else around . . .

* * * *

The world around Johnny Lancer had dissolved into a nightmarish whirlpool of jumbled sights and sounds. 

". . . If you ask me, the boy done got what he had comin' to him – ain't never seen a gunfighter yet that didn't deserve to die that way . . ."

". . . feel sorry for the family, takin' him in and all – I done told old Murdoch that he'd be sorry if he took the boy in . . ."

The dark-haired man's breathing came in painful gasps. "No," he whispered as he tried to force his injured body away from the condemning voices. Their words weren't true – not many men were given a second chance in life and none appreciated that chance more than Johnny Lancer.

The sleeping woman's head jerked to wakefulness as the man on the bed shifted uncomfortably against the cool sheets. 

Teresa O'Brien pushed a loose strand of dark hair out of her face, then leaned forward to take a closer look at the struggling man.

"Ssh," she crooned softly. "You're safe now, at home . . ."

A soft, cool hand rested for a moment against his forehead. His struggling subsided as her words began to penetrate the darkness around him. 

Safe . . . home . . . Lancer wondered if that would ever be true or if he would spend the rest of his life confronting the shadows of his life as a gunfighter.

"Scott . . . Murdoch?" His voice was hoarse and raspy. 

Teresa gently stroked his feverish brow. "With the Sheriff, taking of . . . matters. They'll be here soon."

The image of the man, weeping and broken, being led away by some deputies surfaced in Johnny's mind. It was firmly etched in his memory, not soon to be forgotten.

". . .the man . . . who shot me . .. what - -" he stopped abruptly, exhausted by the effort of speaking. 

"We'll talk about it later," the young woman insisted. Now wasn't the time to tell Johnny that the man's mind had come completely undone by the gunfight. There'd be time enough to share that later, after Johnny's physical injuries had begun to heal. "You rest now," Teresa whispered. "I'm going to get you a cup of broth, I'll be right back . . ."

Johnny nodded in response and slumped back against the pillows. Slowly, the tension began to seep from his body. The gentle tides of sleep lapped against his battered body, forcing back the memories of what had transpired.

Once again, the dead, cold hand of the past had reached out and touched him. And again he had survived – until the next time – 

The End


End file.
